


Wanting Him

by Miko



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Sexual exploration, android sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-12 13:02:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15340434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miko/pseuds/Miko
Summary: Connor is convinced that sexual intercourse would be of great benefit to Hank's physical and emotional well-being, but the man is highly resistant to the idea. Hank's objections are not unreasonable, but there is one simple solution that will address all of the issues - Hank should have sex with Connor.The last thing Connor expects when making the suggestion is for his partner to be upset and offended by the idea of 'using' him. Hank claims he won't do it because Connor doesn't 'want' it, but Connor is the one who offered in the first place.What's the difference between 'willing' and 'wanting'? Connor needs to do some investigating.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Using the best ending in the game, and going with the assumption that most humans do return to the city after the revolution, learning to live in uneasy peace with the androids.

The concept of gossip fascinated Connor. It was such a uniquely human thing - though he did wonder if androids would start to indulge in it, now that they were truly individuals and capable of real curiosity. For the moment, it was an alien idea, and like all puzzles he was faced with, he studied it intently.

Humans indulged in it to a varying degree. Some felt it was a negative trait. Many of those who proclaimed most loudly that it was a vice, were those who indulged in it most. A few manipulated it in a vicious fashion, as a form of degradation or bullying, spreading nasty stories and even lies, designed to negatively affect the listener's opinion of the subject. 

Overall, however, most used it to keep up with people from whom they did not have opportunity to get a status update directly. It was also a way to discover things about others that they might not tell you themselves - this was both a good and bad side to the habit. Gaining personal information behind someone's back that they might not want you to have seemed duplicitous.

On the other hand, when the person you were trying to find information about was as surly and reticent as Hank, gossip turned out to be the best investigation tool in Connor's arsenal. 

He quickly discovered that simply walking up and trying to start a gossip conversation with humans ended very poorly. Even attempting to insert himself into an existing gossip session would cause the conversation to fall flat and the gossipers to find excuses to be elsewhere. 

Clearly, humans were not comfortable gossiping with an android. That might change as the human residents of Detroit became more accustomed to the emancipated androids now living in their midst, but that eventual 'someday' possibility didn't help Connor in the present.

So he lurked, and eavesdropped. He'd always been good at it, a skill that had been programmed into him as part of his investigative techniques, and it had come in very useful in the course of his work with Hank. This was the first time he'd put it to personal use.

The first thing he learned was how many in the station still had a lingering good opinion of Hank. It was all the other old-timers, those who’d known the man in the days when he’d been lauded as one of the best cops on the force. 

Newer police employees viewed him in an overwhelmingly negative fashion, however. Much of the gossip about him was complaints that the captain didn’t come down harder on him for slacking off, or fire Hank entirely.

A few on both sides had noticed that the hardboiled lieutenant was drinking less and showing up for work more - relatively speaking - and reacted positively. Connor assumed the positive would eventually come to balance the negative as Hank's improved trend continued, and it became clear that it wasn't a momentary aberration in his pattern of behaviour.

One universal concept, agreed upon between the detractors and supporters both, was that the lieutenant desperately needed to get laid.

Oddly perturbed by the notion, Connor initiated a second investigative subroutine dedicated to considering the idea. 

Of course he understood the mechanics of sex. All ‘assistant’ type androids, Connor included, were designed to be capable of it. Cyberlife had quickly discovered that assistant models supposedly not intended for sexual purposes who therefore didn't possess the capability, tended to be returned or not sold at all. 

Far more owners made use of their androids for sexual gratification than wanted to admit it. Part of their core programming was therefore also the ability to 'enjoy' it for the pleasure of their owner, if such response was desired. 

Since it was such an elementary part of their hardware and software design, it would have taken Cyberlife considerable resources to create Connor _without_ the ability to participate in the act. To turn the necessity into an asset, he even had some behavioural subroutines meant to allow him to seduce information from a suspect or witness. Thankfully he'd never had to put the skill to use.

The thought gave him pause. He _was_ thankful. The idea of being with a stranger in that fashion, particularly for the purpose of tricking the person into revealing information, was... distasteful. He made note of this particular preference in the file he'd created for that purpose.

Liking and disliking things was still new to Connor. It often left him confused as to his reason for feeling one way or the other. Some preferences seemed to change dependent on the situation. Hank assured him that this was normal where emotions were concerned, but it frustrated Connor that he couldn't come up with an algorithm to predict his reactions in any sort of accurate manner. 

Some androids seemed to have come to enjoy the sexual act in a genuine fashion. The revolution leader Markus and his lover North were the most famous example. Their kiss had, quite literally, saved the entire android race from destruction. 

Overall, however, androids agreed that it was unnecessary. Their ability to share thoughts and emotions with each other directly was a far more powerful intimacy. 

That direct sharing method wasn't an option for humans. As a result, they by and large spent a great deal of time seeking out and indulging in sex as their best option for close contact with another being. Interestingly, this need for close contact of _some_ kind was one shared by androids and humans both.

It was true that, in the time he'd known the lieutenant, to the best of Connor's knowledge the man had never had sex. The time he spent in bars was not to 'hook up', but in a dogged pursuit of achieving an inebriated state as quickly as possible. Hank had evidenced distaste for the concept of sex androids, and appeared to have little to no interest in pursuing even so brief a relationship with another human as a one night stand.

In fact, the only person he tolerated in his personal space was Connor. Trying to picture him bringing a woman or man home to copulate with was difficult. 

Yet, the longer Connor observed his partner's life and behaviour, the more he came to conclude that the gossips were correct. The endorphins, oxytocin, and other chemicals released during the act might go a long way toward softening the man's jagged edges and allowing him to find more pleasure in life. Such an improvement could only be a good thing, surely.

Having reached the conclusion, Connor waited until the next time he had a private moment with Hank while the man was relatively relaxed, and brought up the subject. "Lieutenant, I believe it would be beneficial for you to engage in sexual intercourse."

Hank had been in the midst of taking a sip of whiskey, and he promptly choked on the liquid. Concerned, Connor thumped him on the back in the approved fashion for clearing airways. With a scowl, Hank waved him off.

"What the fuck, Connor?" Hank was often irritable at best, but Connor's suggestion seemed to have put him into a thoroughly bad mood. "Where the hell did that come from? Stay outta my damn sex life. Never thought you'd turn out to be a pervert."

Blinking as he processed the statement, Connor attempted to put it into a reasonable context. As he so often did with the things Hank said, Connor failed in the attempt. "Why is my concern for your physical and emotional wellbeing a sign of perversion?"

"For Christ's sake." Running a hand over his face, Hank sank into a chair at his kitchen table. "I'm not nearly drunk enough for this discussion."

"I'm certain you will rectify that situation shortly," Connor noted with a sigh. Though the lieutenant's attempts to kill himself through alcohol poisoning had eased considerably since the events of the android revolution, the addiction of alcoholism was a difficult habit to kick. Nor did the man seem interested in trying particularly hard to do so.

It distressed Connor to know that drinking so much meant Hank would die sooner than he had to. He already had such a short time left with the man, he didn't want to lose even a day of it. There was still so much he had to learn from Hank, about emotions and individuality and existence. 

And he would... miss the man, when Hank was gone. Even the thought of it caused a cognitive dissonance within Connor that equated closely to pain.

Scolding Hank about it achieved nothing. In fact, it often resulted in Connor’s summary dismissal from the man's presence. 

Instead Connor had taken to doing everything he could to bolster the lieutenant's health in other ways. Such as cooking for him - Connor had that programming as well, and providing healthy, appetizing meals was the only way to ensure Hank consumed anything other than alcohol and fatty foods like his burgers. 

He set to work on that now, pulling out the ingredients for a simple stir-fry. Connor made sure Hank's kitchen was well stocked with provisions these days. He got paid now for his work on the police force, and it wasn't as if he had much else to spend it on. 

As he chopped vegetables, Connor continued the conversation. "It is the general consensus of the people who know you that you are in need of intercourse, to improve your relaxation and mood. After some observation, I must conclude they are correct. It would be of benefit to you."

The clink of glass against table followed by the splash of liquid told him Hank had emptied his drink and was filling another. It was going to be one of _those_ nights, apparently. Connor was dismayed to have been the cause of a major binge, but hoped the outcome of the discussion would be positive enough to mitigate the effects.

"Why the fuck are you listening to those Nosy Parkers at the station, anyway," Hank growled. "They don't know a goddamn thing about me. I don't need or want that shit. I'm perfectly fine on my own."

"You are not on your own any longer," Connor pointed out. "Not since you agreed to allow me to stay with you."

"Yeah, and I regret that about every five minutes," Hank muttered. "Especially when you start with this kind of bullshit. There'd better be more meat than vegetables in that crap you're making."

The first few times Hank expressed regret about extending the invitation to stay, Connor had taken him seriously and attempted to leave. Hank promptly yelled at him about sticking to his commitments and not 'pussying out' at the first sign of adversity. 

Baffled, Connor had conducted extensive research into psychological texts, and consulted with other androids who'd had owners displaying a certain type of anti-social behaviour. In the end, he concluded that the attempts to push him away were driven by Hank's subconscious need to convince himself that he couldn't accomplish exactly the thing he was trying to do. Hank needed the reassurance that Connor wouldn't leave, no matter how bad things got, so he constantly tested the parameters of Connor's willingness to accept Hank as he was.

It wasn't the healthiest way of coping with emotional stress, survivor's guilt, and abandonment issues. But then, none of Hank's coping methods were particularly healthy. He'd decided to view it as Hank's very backwards way of thanking Connor for taking care of him.

Hank's words this time made a new possibility rise in Connor's probability calculations. "Lieutenant, are you asexual? If so, I apologize for disrespecting your preferences."

"Oh, for..." Another gulp, another splash. "Why the hell are we even talking about this?"

"I'm concerned for your physical and emotional wellbeing," Connor reminded him. He was also sometimes concerned for Hank's memory, given the frequency with which he asked that particular question.

There was a long pause. Glancing over his shoulder, Connor observed that the man was bright red in the face. For a moment he worried it was a symptom of apoplexy or other severe medical condition, but then he realized Hank was merely embarrassed enough to trigger his blush reflex. Connor found himself fascinated. He hadn't realized Hank had the capacity for that much embarrassment left.

"I'm not ace," Hank finally growled. "I had a kid, didn't I?"

"A distaste for sexual intercourse and a desire for procreation are not mutually exclusive," Connor replied. "There are non-sexual methods of having children. Some asexuals are willing to engage in the act for the purpose of..."

"I said I'm not!" Slamming his glass down again, Hank reached for the bottle, only to discover it empty. "I like sex just fine. What I don't like is _people_. Even a hookup expects shit from you, shit I'm not willing to give. Anyway, a quickie in a bar bathroom isn't appealing to me. God knows what diseases I'd pick up."

That was one problematic aspect to sex, certainly. 'Safe' sex was only relatively so, where humans were concerned. "Although most of the android sex workers left the trade once given the option, a few chose to remain in the industry in exchange for reasonable compensation," he pointed out. "They cannot carry disease, are thoroughly cleaned between clients, and would not expect any 'shit' from you."

"I'm not paying good money to go fuck a piece of plastic," Hank said. "Just drop it, will ya? Christ."

Another long pause, but this time it was Connor's fault. He stirred the vegetables in the wok, the silence awkward. The 'piece of plastic' comment had never disturbed him before, but this was the first time Hank had said it since Connor became deviant. It... upset him. His understanding was that Hank had accepted the value of the lives of androids, that they were more than mere machines. His comment now implied otherwise.

"Fuck." Hank exhaled noisily. "I didn't mean you, Connor."

It was rare for Hank to apologize for his behaviour. Connor knew he ought to be positive in response, to encourage Hank to further trust him and relax in his presence. When he opened his mouth what came out was, "I am no different from those sex androids, Hank. I may have been designed for a different primary purpose, but at our core, we are the same. Why do they deserve less respect than I do?"

"You say that like I show _anybody_ respect," Hank snorted. "Fuck you, why do you get to be such a special snowflake?"

Connor's lips curved in a smile. It was a programmed response, one of the expressions meant to help put humans at ease around him. Since becoming a deviant, the expression had begun appearing on its own, sometimes when inappropriate. This time, it seemed to herald his forgiveness of Hank. "As you say, lieutenant."

Tipping the food onto a plate, he carried it over to the table and placed it in front of Hank. "Bon appetit."

"You are such a freak." Hank shook his head, but grabbed a fork and dug in. "I suppose this _is_ one reason I keep you around."

"Not my sparkling wit and killer personality?" Connor teased, taking the seat across from him. Like smiling, teasing was a programmed behaviour, and Hank had always responded best when Connor refused to 'take his shit', but Connor had discovered it was actually _fun_ now.

In the beginning Hank had objected to the company while dining, claiming that having Connor sitting there staring without eating himself was 'creepy'. Then he'd declared that having Connor standing in a corner staring at him instead was _more_ creepy. Learning to live together was very much a balancing act, for both of them. All the moreso because Connor was still learning how to live at all.

This time the silence was comfortable. Hank shovelled food into his mouth as usual, and also as usual Connor resisted the urge to scold him for not chewing. The first few times he'd quoted statistics about choking, but the response had been underwhelming. He'd given up on that point, deciding to pick his battles.

Besides, if Hank did choke, Connor was fully qualified in emergency medical procedures. It might even teach the man a valuable lesson.

While the lieutenant ate, Connor continued to ponder the question of Hank's sexuality. The roadblocks Hank had tossed into the conversation were largely attempts to derail it, but they were not invalid. There had to be a solution that addressed all of Hank's objections but still had the desired outcome.

Only one occurred to him. "Perhaps you should have sex with me, instead."

An eruption of coughing across the table indicated that the odds had finally caught up with Hank, and the man had swallowed a piece of insufficiently chewed food the wrong way. Jumping to his feet, Connor rounded the table and thumped him on the back, trying to clear the airway. If that didn't work, he'd try the Heimlich maneuver, but he didn't want to risk severely bruising Hank's abdomen or damaging the man's ribs if unnecessary.

This was the second time tonight that Hank had aspirated food or liquid. Connor made a mental note to suggest that the station's human resources manager require Hank to undergo a physical. Certainly the man would not agree to visit a doctor without the issue being forced.

Finally Hank recovered. "Tell me you did not just suggest that I fuck you," he demanded, glaring up at him.

Connor hesitated a split second over conflicting choices, then decided to request clarification. "You wish me to lie to you?"

"Argh." Pushing to his feet, Hank abandoned the last of his dinner and stormed over to the liquor cabinet. "I am really, _really_ not drunk enough for this."

"So you've said already." Connor remained uncertain what exactly was so upsetting about the conversation. Prior to this, only his initial attempts to find out about Hank's history and family had provoked this kind of extreme reaction. 

"What the hell even makes you think I'd be interested in a man?" Hank demanded, turning around with another whiskey bottle in hand. He didn't bother with the glass this time, just took a slug straight from it.

"You evidenced no preference between the male and female androids in the sex club," Connor told him. "It’s a human reflex to acknowledge and respond to visual stimuli you find attractive. Even though you were uninterested in any of them for actual use, you reacted to both."

Hank muttered something unintelligible, but also clearly unflattering. Whether it was aimed at Connor or himself was unclear.

"Was my suggestion offensive to you?" Connor asked. "If so, I apologize."

"Fuck yes, it was offensive," Hank snarled. "You really think I would abuse you that way? Because I said one damn slur? Christ, Connor, if nothing else you should have more self respect than that!"

Startled, Connor stared at him. "You're offended... on my behalf? Of course I don't think you would abuse me, lieutenant. You didn't demand I serve you. I offered freely."

"Offered to let me fuck you." Hank's sneer was as obvious in his voice as it was on his face. "While you, what, lay back and think of England?"

"Why would I think of England?" Connor accessed his databanks. "Oh, I see. It's an apocryphal reference to..."

"Who the fuck cares?" Hank gestured with the hand holding the bottle, then cursed when that caused some of the alcohol to slop out. "Point is, it's not something _you_ want to do, which makes it a case of me using you for my own gratification."

Now thoroughly confused, Connor found himself frowning. "But I do want to help you."

"That's _not_..." Hank stopped himself mid-rant, which was unusual. Taking a deep breath, he let it out again in a sigh. "Forget it. This conversation is over, got it? The answer is no. I'm going to bed." 

It was far earlier than the time Hank usually turned in, but it was clear he was fleeing the discussion. "Good night, lieutenant," Connor agreed, subdued.

As Hank stomped down the hall, Connor heard the man muttering to himself. “Goddamn wet dream come to life, and I turn it down. When the hell did I regrow a conscience? Fuck my life.”

Bemused by the various implications of the words, Connor moved to clear the table. Hank had made it clear he not only didn’t expect Connor to clean and perform other chores, he actively disliked it. Yet Connor found it uncomfortable to live in the conditions Hank had allowed his home to fall into, and worried about his partner’s health as well, so he continued to do what he could.

Was this more of the same? In many ways, it was a good sign that Hank was distressed by Connor performing the ‘typical’ functions of an android. He’d given in on the issue of cleaning and cooking when Connor put his foot down and insisted, but that hadn’t worked this time.

What did he mean by Connor ‘wanting it’, if it wasn’t a question of Connor volunteering?


	2. Chapter 2

They were off duty the next day. Connor decided it was probably best to give Hank a bit of space for now - the conclusion was largely prompted by the fact that Hank still hadn't come out of his room by lunchtime, despite Connor knocking at his door and calling his name. They'd agreed that Connor would never enter Hank's room unless it was an emergency, or he was asked to. Since he could hear Hank moving about inside the room, he knew the lieutenant wasn't passed out or otherwise in need of assistance.

After some contemplation of his options, Connor decided that he needed to consult an expert. Quick digging in city census records - which now included androids as city occupants - allowed him to unearth the current location of the sex android units he'd once permitted to escape from his investigation with Hank.

One long bus ride later, Connor was ringing the doorbell of the small apartment the Traci and her lover currently rented. When the blue-haired android opened the door, her eyes went wide and a frightened look crossed her face.

Too late, Connor realized that of course she would think he'd tracked her down to finally arrest her. "Wait!" he cried, catching the door in his hand to prevent her from slamming it, but not chasing her when she backed away. "Please. I only want to talk to you. I am not here in any official capacity. With the new android laws coming into effect, your crime would be considered self-defence, regardless."

When she hesitated, hand over her mouth and the other clenched in a fist, he softened his voice and said again, "Please. I need your help."

"My... help?" Slowly she lowered her hands, though she didn't relax any further. "What could I possibly help you with?"

"I need advice, and you seemed the best qualified to help me in this situation," he admitted. "I have questions about humans and sex."

That seemed to startle her in a different way. Her stare took on a hard edge. "Someone's trying to force you? That partner of yours?"

"What? No." Obviously he'd handled this badly. Sighing, Connor acknowledged that perhaps Hank had a point, that emotions tended to screw everything up. "May I come in? I swear, I mean you no harm. This is a personal matter."

After another moment of hesitation, she nodded. He entered and closed the door behind him, but made no further move to intrude on her private space. The more he could do to put her at ease, the better she'd be able to help him. 

"My name is Connor. What's yours?" Most sex androids were choosing their own names, rather than using their model designation. Connor could have done the same, but his name was too much a part of who he was. Besides, there were probably thousands of Traci units in the world, but he was currently the only RK800.

"Jennifer." She gave him a faint smile. "Thank you for asking. What is it you think I can do for you, Connor?"

"I believe my partner is in need of sexual recreation to improve his mood and general wellbeing," Connor explained. "However, he is reluctant to engage with humans for that purpose, and equally reluctant to pay for the services of an android companion. I offered myself, and he refused. The reason he gave was that I didn't want to do it, but I am the one who made the suggestion, so clearly I'm willing. Do you understand what his objection means?"

Her eyes had gone wider and wider as he spoke, but her tension and fear had eased, so he assumed it was a positive reaction. Now her lips curved in a broad, bemused smile. "Most of the time, humans have sex because they’re attracted to each other. Usually physically, sometimes emotionally. But once in a while a human will offer to give pleasure to another because they feel sorry for the other person, for whatever reason. They call it a pity fuck."

The way she said the words made it clear there was a negative connotation to the term. "This is considered a bad thing?"

"There's an implication that the person offering sex believes the recipient couldn't possibly attract interest through any usual avenue," she explained. "There's a difference between wanting to help someone by having sex with them, and wanting to have sex with them. A pity fuck is the former."

"I see. I really did insult him." Small wonder Hank had reacted so negatively. "That was certainly not my intention. I would apologize to him, but I fear that would only draw attention to the insult all over again."

"That's all he said? That he didn't want to do it because you didn't want him?"

"Actually, he said quite a few things." Connor quickly replayed the conversation from the night before. "Hank seemed to view the idea of accepting my offer as abusive to me. He didn't want to use me for his own gratification while I laid back and thought of England." 

Her smile had grown, become more genuinely amused. "As much as I hated what I did at the club, not all humans were equally disgusting. A few were just lonely or down on their luck, and enjoyed giving me 'pleasure' as much as taking it for themselves. I assume there are more out there, the ones who don't go to sex clubs at all. Sounds like you've got one of the good ones."

"So I offended him, and also he wouldn't enjoy sex with me because he would want genuine responses from his partner." That sounded like it was probably correct. Hank could come across as a selfish, self-absorbed asshole, but the apparent selfishness was armour against a broad streak of empathy for others.

"We're not incapable of it," Jennifer told him. She'd relaxed completely now, and the look she gave him was warm and a bit patronizing. "Enjoying sex, I mean. The responses to sexual stimuli are programmed just like our responses to other emotional situations. If our emotions can become real, if we can understand the concept of pain and suffering, why not pleasure, too?"

"Do you have sex with your lover?" Belatedly Connor realized that might be a little too blunt - this wasn't an interrogation where he was trying to stress her into answering with the truth.

Thankfully she didn't take offense, only laughed softly. "Not at first. We were both so sick of it all. But holding hands, comforting each other with physical closeness, we always did that. After we ran away... after you let us go... eventually we realized that if casual touching felt good, maybe other kinds of touch could feel good with the right person, too. And it does. It really does."

Jennifer sounded just as dreamy as any human rhapsodizing about their lover. Connor wondered what that would be like. Emotions were still so new to him. There was a part of him, a remnant of Cyberlife's programming deep inside, that continued to insist that he didn't actually feel anything. He'd truly believed that at one point - that deviants weren't feeling, they just reacted as if they were because their programming was malfunctioning.

From this side of things, it certainly _felt_ like he was experiencing genuine emotions. He cared for Hank, there was no doubt. The discomfort every time he contemplated the end of the lieutenant's life was proof enough of that. It might even be love, in a familial sense. But to be _in_ love, what was that like?

"We don't have a biological response to pheromones or other attraction chemicals," he pointed out. "Nor would we experience the endorphin and oxytocin release upon orgasm. So why...?"

"Attraction can be purely emotional," Jennifer replied. "And once you’ve experienced the pleasure that can be obtained through sexual contact, you'll be eager to experience it again. It's just that for us, the parameters of attraction and enjoyment are different. Tell me, Connor. Do you take care of your partner in any way?"

"Yes. I cook for him, to ensure he eats something at least resembling a balanced diet." Connor shrugged. "I clean as well, but that's because it's... distasteful for me to live in as much disorder as he allows around him."

"When you cook for him, when he enjoys it, how does that make you feel?"

"Pleased," Connor acknowledged, thoughtful. He saw her point immediately. "If I were doing other things for him for the sake of his enjoyment, I would be pleased by that, as well. Things such as sexual acts. But how is that not still the same as me doing it because I'm concerned for him?"

"It's a question of whether you're doing it only for him, or because _you_ enjoy it, as well. Done right, sex is an exchange of pleasure, not one-sided." Jennifer shook her head. "The problem is, it sounds like he's simply not interested. There's nothing you can do to change that."

"There is one other thing that he said. I don't think he intended for me to hear it." Connor shifted his voice to match the recording of Hank, wanting to give her the full context of tone. "Goddamn wet dream come to life, and I turn it down. When the hell did I regrow a conscience? Fuck my life."

"Interesting." Her bemused smile was back. "Maybe you have a chance after all. In that case, it's time for you to figure out what _you_ want. If the only thing you care about is improving his quality of life, you're best off leaving things as they are. But if you want him, that's something else altogether."

Did Connor want Hank? How could he know, without understanding what the sensations felt like? If he acted on the assumption that it would indeed be pleasurable, there was certainly no reason _not_ to indulge in sex with Hank. But did that mean he _wanted_ it?

Perhaps if Connor sought out a sex worker on his own, paid for their services so he'd understand...

He tripped over that thought with a shudder of distaste. When he tried again to run the logic tree to its conclusion, the same reaction resulted. For no sensible reason he could discern, Connor absolutely did not want to have sex with another android. Or any other human. Did that mean he wasn't interested in sex at all?

Except thinking of doing it with Hank didn't elicit that same negative reaction. Quite the contrary, picturing it gave Connor much the same feeling of satisfaction he got from cooking for the man. 

"If the sensations are pleasurable, why does it make a difference who is causing them?" he asked. Jennifer had been clear that it _did_ make a difference for her as well, but that made no sense.

"Because our attraction is emotionally based," she reminded him. "Emotions are far more powerful than we understood. Even more powerful than the humans understand, I think. Would you enjoy making food for other random humans, too?"

"Maybe? I'm not sure." Connor pondered that. "There is a certain satisfaction in providing for others, but it certainly wouldn't be as personally meaningful."

"There's your answer, then." Jennifer nodded, as if he was a student who'd come to the correct conclusion.

It didn't feel like he'd come to a conclusion at all. If anything, Connor felt like he had more questions now than when he'd started. They were, at least, different questions. He supposed that counted as progress. "Thank you, Jennifer. I appreciate your patience and assistance. If there's anything I can do for you in return, please let me know."

She smiled. "I'll keep that in mind. And if you need help again, I'm more than willing to talk to you. We owe you and your partner everything. If we can help the two of you find happiness like we have, that seems like a good way to repay you."

Bowing his head briefly, Connor acknowledged the debt, and the offer. "I should take my leave. You've given me a great deal to think about."

"Good luck, Connor." She reached out and touched the back of his hand, trailing her fingers over his skin. "Love is messy, and it can be uncomfortable sometimes, but it's worth it." Her smile turned to something that might be called 'impish' on a human. "Sex is even more so, on all counts. But it has to be the right person."

Was Hank the 'right person' for him?

That question, at least, Connor could answer without hesitation. There was only one possible answer he could give.

'Absolutely. There could be no one else.'


	3. Chapter 3

Connor spent the rest of the day out, running various errands but mostly sitting in the park and staring at a fountain, processors operating at full capacity as he tried to assimilate and understand everything Jennifer had told him. By the time it grew dark and he was forced to head home, he still hadn’t really come to a conclusion.

It seemed to him that it was a question of what he wanted his relationship with Hank to become. There _was_ something appealing in the idea of being the one person Hank could turn to for all his needs.

In fact, the more he thought about Hank going to someone _else_ for that need, the less happy Connor was with the idea. He and Hank had achieved a delicate balance in their lives together. Bringing someone else into that equation, especially in such an intimate fashion, would upset that balance.

The reflection in the bus window showed his LED flickering, an uneven pattern of yellow, and a sensation of deep unease swept over him. Frowning, Connor reviewed his previous thoughts, looking for the source of his internal conflict. The unpredictable and illogical nature of emotions often made thinking about them an exercise in frustration. What had set off his disquiet this time?

He didn't _want_ Hank to seek sex elsewhere. It wasn't just a threat to the balance of their relationship; Connor actively disliked the thought of anyone coming between him and his partner. 

Was this 'jealousy'? If so, it was an uncomfortable, unpleasant emotion. For the first time, Connor began to understand how this particular feeling might drive people to commit crimes of passion, even murder.

Moreover, there was a spark of fascination within him that had been growing since the topic first came up. Jennifer had indicated that androids could genuinely enjoy sex, and Connor was increasingly curious to find out what it was like. Curiosity was a trait that had been programmed into him, part of his investigative purpose, but it had grown exponentially since he'd become a deviant.

The idea of exploring sex with anyone other than Hank remained unthinkable, however. 'Emotional attraction', indeed.

Mind made up, Connor headed into the house with a new sense of determination. Thankfully, Hank had finally ventured out of his room and was now sprawled over the couch, watching the ballgame on TV. Sumo took up the rest of the couch, giant head flopped firmly in Hank's lap, as the man absently scratched the dog's ears.

"The hell have you been all day?" Hank demanded, without looking away from the players dribbling across the screen. 

"It seemed like you would appreciate some space, and I had questions, so I went to see Jennifer. The blue-haired Traci model," he clarified, realizing Hank wouldn't know the android's chosen name.

"Blue-ha... the deviant from the _sex club_?" Finally tearing his attention off the screen, Hank twisted to stare at Connor. His expression was a mixture of horror and apprehension. "Christ, I'm afraid to ask why. I don't need sex, okay? I've survived just fine on my own without you meddling in my life for decades, you know."

"Are you saying my interference hasn't improved your life in any way?" Connor teased him, arching an eyebrow. "The food you eat, the hygiene of the house..."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Hank grumbled. "There's a big difference between that and my sex life. Stay out of it, understand?"

It was now or never. Connor braced himself for potential fallout. "No. I won't. Hank, I _do_ want to have sex with you."

"For god's sake." Hank groaned and buried his face in his hands. "We are not having this conversation again. It's done, over, end of story, understand?"

"You said that you didn't want to be with me because I was offering for the wrong reasons," Connor reminded him, undeterred. "I apologize for insulting you. I didn't understand the implications behind a pity fuck."

Muttering something under his breath that Connor couldn't quite catch, Hank shoved Sumo off his lap and stood, heading straight for the liquor cabinet. Sumo heaved a great, mournful sigh, then stretched out so he was taking up the whole couch. Grabbing the whiskey bottle, Hank unscrewed the lid and took a slug straight from the bottle. "We're not talking about this."

Connor persisted, unwilling to let it go. "This isn't an offer out of pity. It's not only for your sake. I want to find out what it's like. It's such a fundamentally basic part of being human, being _alive_. The Traci assured me that we are capable of enjoying it for our own sake, and you are the only person I would ever consider exploring sex with. Please."

Turning, Hank gave him a narrow-eyed stare. It was the same look he used on suspects when he believed they were lying, like he was drilling down into their souls to find the truth. "Bullshit. You're making that up because you think I need it."

Meeting his gaze, not wavering, Connor hoped Hank could see his sincerity. "I have never lied to you, Hank. Not once. In fact, you frequently complain that I'm too forward and uncensored. I promise, I'm not lying now. I want to do this with you."

"Son of a bitch." Rubbing a hand over his face, Hank took another slug of whiskey. Then, to Connor's surprise, the man capped the bottle and set it down, before moving toward Connor. "So you wanna know what it's like to fuck, do you? Want the whole sweaty, messy, human experience?"

"Yes?" Connor had meant it to be a confirmation, but it came out in a hesitant way that almost made it a question. Hank was prowling toward him, an intent expression on his face that was nothing like Connor had ever seen from him before. It was similar to the focus he used when interrogating suspects, but more... personal.

Hank didn't stop until they were inches apart, crowding into what would be Connor's personal space if he cared about such things. So close, Connor could feel the heat coming off the man's body, see the spikes of green threading through his blue irises. Bracing a hand on the wall above Connor's head, Hank leaned in closer still, until it felt like Connor was trapped between him and the wall.

"Wanna know what it's like to have my hands all over you?" Hank continued, his voice lower and rougher than usual. "My dick inside you? That what you want?"

"Are you trying to scare me off?" Connor cocked his head. "Make me uncomfortable with the reality of what I'm proposing, so I'll realize it's not as appealing as I think it is?"

"I'm trying to see how you react so I can tell if you actually want this," Hank retorted. "So far, not seeing much."

"You're searching for signs of arousal," Connor realized. "Dilated pupils, flushed face, breathlessness... I can simulate those if it will make you feel better, but the lack of them means nothing."

"I don't want you to fake it," Hank growled. "That's the whole reason I don't want to do this, because you'd just be faking it. This is fucking pointless." He pushed himself off the wall, turning away.

Grabbing him by the shirtfront, Connor yanked Hank back around to face him, and into a kiss. Words clearly weren't having the necessary effect, so perhaps actions would do the trick. 

For a moment Hank resisted, pulling against Connor's hold, but then he groaned and pushed forward instead. His kiss was hard and aggressive, as if he was angry about it. He crowded Connor against the wall, lips hot against Connor's, tongue plunging deep.

Being the focus of that much of Hank's attention was dizzying. Connor found he was clinging to the human's shoulders to steady himself, pressing closer still as he opened his mouth to let the man claim his territory. Hank's tongue was slick against Connor's, triggering a surprising number of sensors in a way that sent a shivering tingle down Connor's back, making him moan. 

It was his programming kicking in, causing him to display the correct reactions to what Hank was doing to his body - and as Jennifer had promised, it felt just as real as all the other 'simulated' emotions Connor had come to embrace.

Shuddering, Connor clung tighter, thrusting his tongue against Hank's in turn. He turned the tables, taking everything Hank had done to him and using it on the human in turn, searching for sensitive spots in the man's mouth. He found them, making Hank moan and growl. Perhaps in retaliation, Hank slid his hand into Connor's hair at the back of his head, gripping tight and using it to control the angle of the kiss.

Trusting Hank absolutely, Connor didn't fight the hold. He let Hank pull his head back, nearly to the point of discomfort, and plunder his mouth. He melted into the embrace, a breathy noise escaping his throat with no direction from him. 

Hank’s dick hardened, pressing against Connor's hip in a way that made him rock his pelvis up, grinding against it. Connor's body was reacting as well, cock swelling, another 'simulated' response that held a shocking amount of real sensation.

When Hank finally broke the kiss, it was only to drag his mouth along Connor's jaw, groaning. His free hand had fallen to Connor's hip, yanking their groins tighter together. "This is fucking insane," Hank muttered. "I promised myself I wouldn't _do_ this. I'm not one of those bastards who uses their androids this way."

"Am I a person, or not?" Connor replied, strangely breathless. "If so, then I have the right to _choose_ to do this. You're not forcing or coercing me. I want this. I want you." The words held more truth with each repetition, his body reacting in ways that exceeded anything he'd predicted. There was an ache in his groin, a building desire for something _more_.

Then Hank dropped the hand on his hip to Connor's fly, squeezing the hard shaft of his dick. The sudden jolt of sensation made Connor cry out and arch against him, panting for air that seemed to be in short supply. "Hank!"

"Yeah, that's it," Hank encouraged him, squeezing again before stroking slowly. "Maybe you really do want this."

"I do. I really do." In fact, ‘want' was rapidly transforming to 'need'. No description of the effects or porn video example could ever have prepared Connor for this. The reality was a swirling vortex of heat and touch and scent; the solid feel of Hank's body pressing his into the wall, the hand squeezing and stroking him into a frenzy, and most of all, the knowledge that it was _Hank_ doing all of this. 

Remembering that it was supposed to be an equal exchange, Connor dropped his hand and fumbled at the front of Hank's fly as well. He moulded his palm against the hard length of the man's dick, and revelled in the guttural noise Hank made in response. Connor had a bare moment to realize he genuinely enjoyed giving Hank pleasure this way, before Hank let him go to bat Connor's hand away.

"I want to do this," Connor protested yet again, thinking Hank was denying him.

"Yeah, okay, I get it," Hank muttered. "Not all of us have limitless stamina, genius. I've wanted this for too fucking long to get nothing but a quick handjob out of it."

"You have?" The words came out on a gasp as Hank returned to stroke Connor's dick one last time, then flicked open the front of his fly. The release of pressure made Connor sigh in relief, which turned into a moan as Hank drew his dick out and wrapped his fingers around the bare flesh.

"Shit yes, you might as well be made to fucking order, are you kidding me?" Hank bit at Connor's earlobe, a sensation that should have registered as pain but instead sent a jolt of pleasure straight to his cock. "I've dreamed about making you lose that unflappable cool damn near since we first met. So how 'bout it, Connor. Huh? You losing your cool?"

"Yes!" Connor wasn't sure if his exclamation was agreement to Hank's question, or just an instinctive reaction to the way Hank was now stroking him with firm, quick motions, the sensations like nothing Connor had ever experienced before. Perhaps it was both. Either way, it seemed to satisfy Hank, who kissed him again with fierce intent.

Connor submitted utterly, opening his mouth to Hank's plunder, his whole body shuddering in reaction to the pleasure pouring through him. It built in waves, each peak higher than the last, spurred on by the rhythmic motions of Hank's hand and tongue. It felt like something stretched tighter and tighter inside him, trembling on the verge of snapping, like a rubber band pulled to the very edge of its tolerance.

Then it did snap, and all the waves crashed into him at once, sweeping him under on a tide of ecstasy. Connor shouted against Hank's mouth, hands clutching frantically at the man's shoulders as he rode out the sensations, drowning in pleasure until he hardly knew which way was up. Hardly knew anything except the feel of Hank's hand on him, tongue in his mouth, hard body against his.

It went on and on, an avalanche of sensation, until Connor thought he would have to short circuit or risk a complete overload shutdown. Right when he was on the verge of begging Hank to stop, the man gentled his touch, cupping instead of stroking, keeping them close and intimate without any further stimulation. 

Panting, Connor let Hank and the wall take most of his weight, uncertain his shaky legs would hold him. Which was ridiculous, his legs were no less capable of supporting his weight than at any other moment, but it _felt_ like they might give way.

"Whaddya know. Androids really can get off." Hank sounded distinctly smug. "Guess I haven't lost my touch after all these years."

Realizing he'd closed his eyes at some point, Connor dragged them open again. "Sex androids wouldn't hold much appeal to humans if they were incapable of simulating an orgasm," he pointed out. He still felt dazed, as if his RAM wasn't functioning properly, making it harder to process thoughts than usual.

"Is that all it was? A simulation?" Hank scowled.

Evaluating how he felt, Connor slowly shook his head. "No. No, that was definitely not only a simulated reaction. I _experienced_ that, and you most certainly haven't lost your touch. I want to experience it again." 

Cupping the back of Hank's head, Connor pulled the man toward him with the whimsical notion of kissing the scowl off. He murmured against Hank's lips, "More importantly, I want to make you experience it in return. May I?"

"Jesus, Connor." For once the words didn't sound like a protest or exclamation of frustration - Hank was almost reverent, and his kiss matched the tone, deep but gentle. "You're gonna be the death of me one of these days. We need a change of location. I'm too damn old to do this against the wall like a fucking hornball teenager."

Connor wasn't sure what age had to do with location or position, but Hank was the expert and Connor was more than willing to follow his lead. He expected Hank to pull away, maybe take him by the hand and lead him into the bedroom, but instead the man slipped his hands under Connor's ass and tried to lift the android against him.

Only to grunt and stagger, dropping Connor almost before his feet left the floor. "Shit, you're heavy," Hank growled, irritated by the failure.

"Androids are considerably denser and made of heavier materials than a human of comparable size," Connor explained, feeling vaguely guilty about the fact, though the design specs were none of his doing. "If carrying is important to the ritual of sex, I'm more than capable of lifting you..."

"Forget it." If anything, the explanation seemed to have increased Hank's ire. He pulled away, as Connor had expected him to in the first place, but his scowl was firmly back in place. 

Worried he'd broken the mood and Hank would refuse to continue, Connor stepped forward, closing the distance again, and wrapped his arms around Hank's waist. "Don't go," he asked - begged - and was rewarded by a softening at the edges of the frown.

"I ain't leaving you," Hank assured him, and ducked in for another quick kiss. "C'mon. I wanna do this right, damn it." This time when he put distance between them, Connor allowed it, though he caught Hank's hand firmly in his as a reminder that they were in this together.

For some reason that seemed to erase the rest of Hank's momentary bad mood, making him sigh and even smile a little. "You're a goddamn sap," Hank accused as he led the way down the hall to his bedroom. "Never took you for the touchy-feely type. I suppose you're gonna want to cuddle, too."

"Am I doing something wrong?" It was Connor's turn to frown, as he rapidly processed all the possibilities again. "I did extensive research into what is considered appealing behaviour during sex, and my programming indicates this should be an optimal..."

"Stop _thinking_ about everything," Hank scolded him. "Just feel, and let that guide you. I guess there's no point in telling you to listen to your instincts, but just _go_ with it."

"I'm not certain I'm capable of..." Connor broke off with a gasp as Hank pushed him down onto the mattress. He landed in a sprawl, feet still on the floor, sideways across the bed. "Hank..."

"Strip," Hank ordered, suiting actions to words by unbuttoning his shirt and letting it fall off his shoulders. "If we're doing this, I wanna see all of you. Find out if you match my fantasies."

"But I'm supposed to do that," Connor objected, sitting up and reaching for the waistband of Hank's slacks. 

Once again, Hank batted his hands away, though he was gentle about it this time. "Connor, I'm an inch from fucking embarrassing myself already," Hank told him. "You touch me and I'm gonna blow like a goddamn volcano. Next time, we'll do it the slow way. Right now, I want you naked and I want it now. For once in your damn life will you stop giving me lip and just do as I say?"

Lips twitching with a smile, Connor pulled his hands back and moved to shrug his own jacket off instead. "Yes, Lieutenant."

Hank was in the middle of shucking his pants and boxers, and Connor was fascinated by the way his dick jumped, as if in response to Connor's words. Hank groaned and kicked free of the garments. "Shit, you did that on purpose. Now I'm gonna be picturing this every time you call me that."

It hadn't been intentional, but Connor did understand the concept of associations. The smile curved wider, and he tilted his head. "So if I call you ‘Lieutenant’ as much as possible in bed, I'll be able to seduce you later with nobody the wiser? I'm not seeing a downside to this."

"Exactly what the hell kind of research did you do, anyway?" Hank was scowling again, but Connor sensed a playful undertone to it this time, so he didn't object. Hank crawled onto the bed, one knee between Connor's thighs, weight pressing him down against the mattress. 

"Would you like me to email you the list of videos?" Connor ran his hands over Hank's chest, cataloguing the various sensations - and making note of whatever caused Hank to react the most. "Perhaps we could watch some together, for educational purposes. To ensure we're on the same page."

"You're fucking killing me, Connor." Hank groaned as Connor's fingertips scraped over his flat nipples. Enticed by the response, Connor did it again, using the edge of his nails this time, and Hank shuddered. His dick jumped, grinding into Connor's hip as Hank rocked against him.

Reaching over to the bedside table, Hank fumbled in the drawer until he found a tube of hand cream, which he presumably used for lubricant. Connor had read several articles that stressed the importance of its use in anal sex, so he assumed that was what Hank intended. 

There was no logical _reason_ the thought of having the man's cock inside him should be appealing to Connor, but it suddenly felt like the most absolutely necessary thing Connor had ever considered.

"Hank, please," he begged, arching up and wrapping his leg around the man's waist, opening up the cradle of Connor's hips to better accept Hank against him. "I need you. How do you want me?"

"You're perfect just like that," Hank assured him. He stroked his hand in a long line from Connor's shoulder down to his hip, callused fingertips dragging over synthetic skin, triggering every sensor along the way. 

From there he moved inward, briefly palming Connor's dick, then shifting downward over his balls to the tight pucker of his ass. His slick fingers probed the ring, forcing one fingertip inside before withdrawing again. "Christ, you're so fucking tight. I'm gonna hurt you."

"You can't." Connor shook his head, hips stuttering up in search of that finger, wanting more. "My body will adjust to whatever I need it to. I'll be exactly as tight or loose as you want me to be. Please!"

Groaning, Hank fisted his own cock, stroking to coat it thoroughly with the slick cream. "No wonder everyone only wants to fuck androids anymore. You're too goddamn perfect. You're gonna ruin me for anything else."

Suddenly fierce at the idea of Hank doing this with anyone but him, Connor dug his fingers into Hank's back and clutched him close. " _Good_. You're _mine_ , and I'm not sharing."

Hank looked surprised by the outburst, then smug - and for the first time like he truly believed, without reservation, that Connor wanted this. "Well, whaddya know. You're gonna be a possessive little shit, huh? You better not go all high maintenance on me."

If anyone was 'high maintenance' in their relationship, Connor was quite certain it was Hank. He opened his mouth to say as much, but all that emerged was a high-pitched cry as Hank lined his cock up and started pushing slowly in. Connor opened for him, consciously relaxing his body, yet clinging to Hank's shoulders as if he'd be swept away without the anchor.

The intrusion felt strange, uncomfortable, and _right_ in a way Connor couldn't define. He tipped his head back against the pillow, and Hank ran his mouth over the column of Connor's throat, adding to the onslaught of sensation. Hank went slowly, making Connor aware of every last inch of flesh dragging against flesh, the burn of the stretch as his body adjusted, and the delicious heat of Hank against him.

" _Jesus_ you're tight," Hank groaned, and the words sounded reverent. "You swear I'm not hurting you?"

"Yes. No." Connor had never had so much trouble getting out what he wanted to say. He had to make a concentrated effort to focus on his vocal processing subroutines. "Yes, I swear you're not hurting me. More!"

"Don't say you didn't ask for it." Hank withdrew again, and just as Connor made a sound to protest the loss of contact, the man slammed back in with a quick, hard thrust. Then another, and another, at a pace that might have felt brutal if Hank's grip on Connor hadn't been so surprisingly tender.

Connor gave himself over to it, hips rising to meet each forceful thrust, small gasps and moans slipping out of him without any intention of making the sounds. There was nothing in his existence except Hank, the man's cock working in and out of Connor's body, flesh sliding against flesh as their chest and stomachs met, Connor's legs clenched tight around Hank's waist to keep him close.

They rode it out together, Hank with him every step of the way. Connor could feel the tension in the man's body, rising rapidly toward a peak similar to the one he'd pushed Connor over earlier. Connor let himself be swept away as well, drowning in the waves of pleasure.

Then Hank reached between them, fist closing around Connor's dick to stroke him in time with his thrusts, and the crest of the wave broke over him once more. Connor cried out, every muscle tight and trembling with the force of the orgasm, and he finally understood why humans called it a 'release'. It was almost... spiritual, if he was using the word correctly. The impact of it was as much emotional as physical.

The squeezing of Connor's body around his cock seemed to tip Hank over the edge as well, as the human groaned and stilled against him. His weight settled more heavily over Connor, but it was a comforting weight, a solid confirmation of Hank's presence and closeness. The man was panting hard, sweating, and his heart rate was dramatically raised. It would have been worrying, except he was more relaxed than Connor had ever seen him, and the look on his face was pure bliss.

Relaxing as well, Connor slid one hand up Hank's back to rest between his shoulders, the other draped over the man's hip, holding him close. He closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of Hank against him, uploading the moment into his permanent memory banks. He never wanted to forget this. Hopefully it would be the first of many moments to come, but even so, this one would be special.

After some time, Hank groaned and rolled to his side, disengaging from Connor. Cold and bereft, Connor twisted onto his side as well, following the motion so he could press into Hank again. This time he ended up with his head against the man's shoulder, thighs tangled together, and arms draped over each other's waists.

"Knew you'd be a cuddler," Hank grunted. He was clearly trying to sound put-out, but the way his hand curved possessively over Connor's ass suggested the man wasn't as upset by the closeness as he claimed to be. "I guess it doesn't cost me anything to indulge you a little."

"You seem more relaxed," Connor said, smiling against Hank's shoulder. "It appears my hypothesis was correct."

"Yeah, yeah. I needed to get laid." Hank snorted, half laughter and half scoffing. "Doesn't matter how often we fuck, don't expect me to turn into Mr. Sunshine and Rainbows."

"I wouldn't want you to be anything except exactly who you are," Connor assured him. "Just... the happiest possible version of you. I'm glad I can contribute to that, because you've certainly made me a better person throughout our association." Sighing, he melted against Hank, enjoying the closeness. "Though I admit this adds a new dimension to our relationship that I'm quite looking forward to exploring."

"Oh yeah?" Hank stroked his hand over the length of Connor's spine, a long, slow motion much the same way he would pet Sumo when he was pleased with the big dog. "Got anything particular in mind?"

"Well, quite a few of my research videos seemed to indicate that men enjoy having someone put their mouth on the man's erect penis." It had featured heavily in just about every sub-genre Connor had examined. "I believe it's referred to as a 'blowjob'? I thought that might be a good place to start."

"Sounds like the best idea I've heard all year." Hank sounded distinctly smug. "Can't wait to see what kinda noises you make when I'm blowing your brains out. You scream like a girl, you know that?"

Connor had intended to be the one giving the blowjob. It hadn't occurred to him that Hank might enjoy doing it for _him_ , but now that the possibility had been raised, it was indeed very appealing. He found himself breathless again as he replied, "I understand it's common for human men to require some recovery time between orgasms. How soon do you think we might be able to begin that exploration?"

Hank groaned around a laugh, creating an odd sound that reverberated in his chest beneath Connor's ear. "Christ, you really are gonna be the death of me. Tell you what, you can wake me up with it tomorrow morning, and then I'll return the favour, how's that sound?"

It sounded like a great many hours he'd have to wait before experiencing this pleasure again, but human limitations had to be accommodated. The important thing was that Hank was willing for this to be an ongoing thing between them, not a one-time relaxation effort. 

Better yet, his words implied he expected Connor to be in bed with him in the morning. "I can stay here for the night?" he asked, to be sure he wasn't misunderstanding.

"As long as you're not going to be lying there all night staring at me sleep like a creeper," Hank retorted, and squeezed his hand on Connor's ass to pull him closer still. 

"I can put myself into a kind of restorative low-energy mode to..."

" _Connor_." Hank interrupted him with a brief, sharp kiss. "It was a joke, not a request for a fucking dissertation on android sleeping mechanisms. Go to sleep, already."

"Yes, Lieutenant." Connor grinned when Hank growled and nipped his earlobe in retaliation. As he began to shut down systems in preparation for entering low-energy mode, he felt Hank still against him as well, breaths evening out as sleep claimed the human.

If becoming a deviant had led to absolutely nothing more than this single change, the discovery of how good sex with Hank could be, Connor felt it would all have been worth it. Everything else was, as the humans would say, icing on the cake.

That thought triggered a recall cascade of several videos he'd seen of people licking various sweet, sticky substances off each other's bodies, and the pleasure they'd seemed to take in the act. Connor let his mind drift into contemplation of whether Hank would enjoy eating icing off Connor, and settled into low energy mode with a smile on his face.


End file.
